The Spook: Operation: SILENCER
by Codename FULLMETAL
Summary: Twenty five years into the war, many lives have been lost. Now the planet of Rapture IV has been invaded, the Prophet of Vigilance heading the event. The UNSC has sent a squad of ODSTs in to put a stop to the whole event by taking out their leader.
1. Dropping In

**/0653 Hours, July 24, 2550 (MILITARY CALENDAR)/ **  
**/UNSC _Waking Hour_ Armory, Rapture IV Atmosphere/**  
**/Rapture IV, 34 Piscii System/**  
**/STATUS: RED ALERT, all units prepare for engagement!/ **

Space is a place defined as being the unlimited or incalculably vast three-dimensional realm or region in which all material objects are located and all events must occur.

As it turned out, space seems a lot less infinite when it is occupied by about twelve different war cruisers trying to reduce each other to free-floating atoms.

The dark violet and snow white hulls of the various cruisers orbiting the large agricultural world of Rapture IV had occupied the darkness past the atmosphere for only a few hours under a week now, having taken it over by force on the seventeenth of the same month. Nobody had known what their objective was on such a seemingly pointless planet, but the Covenant Empire had clearly taken interest in it for some reason or another.

When the planet first fell, nobody was even sure how to react. Usually the coalition of extraterrestrials bent on wiping out Humanity in the name of their so-called "Gods," which had somehow managed to "profane" them without even knowing what they had done, used their Assault Carriers' massive energy projector weapons to glass the planet- a process that involved terraforming the landscape to make it uninhabitable by any life, basically turning the ground into a glass-like substance- and leave nothing behind. This time was different. The Covenant occupied the airspace, but had yet to even seemingly _consider_ destroying the planet.

There was only one reason why they ever did that: There was something on the ground that they wanted.

The United Nations Space Command, or UNSC, had only taken this long to react because they had not anticipated the massive firepower that would be in place. To break through that would require an even heavier amount of firepower. Comparing the vast difference in technology between the coalition of aliens and Humanity, that was a difficult task. Bullets and plasma were not exactly on the same level after all.

So now here the two sides were locked in their engagement over the colonial planet, firing off missiles and plasma batteries at each other in an attempt to either gain or keep control over the planet. The sight of explosions and various colored lights created an absurd display that one might almost find pleasure in seeing, were it not for the meaning and lethal intent behind each bit.

Covenant Seraphs and UNSC Longswords spewed from their hangars like angry bees from a hive and began to join into the fray. The already violent display took on a new level, creating smaller light shows in the space between the massive cruisers that carried them in. However, the superior maneuverability and firepower of the Covenant ships gave them an edge; Within an hour the UNSC had already lost a quarter of their forces.

They needed to send the Covenant into disarray, which meant knocking out the leader of this section of their military's forces.

Deep in the bowels of the _Marathon_-class Cruiser, the UNSC _Waking Hour_, nothing was still. The sound of armored boots against metal floor was present as UNSC Marines ran through the hallways in their olive drab battle dress uniforms rang through everyone's ears, but yet nobody heard it, their minds blocking out everything but the idea of victory. The ship's hull cried out as superheated plasma rounds found their mark or a starfighter that had lost control slammed into it, rocking the ship violently as it hung there in space.

The dual Magnetic Accelerator Cannons boomed throughout the ship, the time between being occupied by smaller Archer Missile Pods firing off their load or fifty-millimeter point defense turrets trying their hardest to pick off nearing spacecraft. Engines could be heard roaring in the distance as fighters disembarked or re-entered. If one could not hear any of these things, they were either deaf or they were dead.

At the stern end of the _Waking Hour_, however, not all was so tense. The large, metallic room wasn't very well lit, but there was plenty of purpose behind that. In the center of the room sat a large rectangular table, the top of it glowing a brilliant sapphire-blue color as the holographic grid lit up bright. Four figures, barely visible, were present to take up a place at each side.

Rays of blue light began to spring upward from the table and connect with the circular device overhead. The lights shimmered and faltered briefly, interlacing and creating blurred shapes as they did so. Within about ten seconds, the hologram was displaying a large spire, with several smaller spires or dome-like objects surrounding it. A Covenant CCS-Battlecruiser lingered overhead, and many undistinguishable smaller craft and footsoldiers could be seen roaming the area around it on patrol.

Rectangular boxes highlighted several things about the spire. Entry points, defense systems, what the different structures were. They were just as quickly willed away by a press of a button by the man at the end of the table. The last box was at nearly the highest point on the spire, and its text was simple: _Goal_.

The group sat quietly as the hologram's images shifted, the real-time graphics showing them exactly what was happening on the planet's surface at that moment in time. Different facial expressions crossed their face, but most of the time they remained relatively the same: Fiercely determined with a touch of grim.

The man at the end of the table pressed a new button. The hologram's blue lights faltered away, leaving the room pitch black for a second before the industrial lights of the ship built into the ceiling flickered to life, revealing all four of the faint figures for what they were.

All four of them were dressed in what was more or less the same attire. They all wore pressurized jumpsuits akin to a space suit's liquid-cooling garment, though with plenty of kevlar armorweave added into it to ensure there was enough protection to stand up to small-arms fire, though with heavier kevlar in other areas that were both vital and the actual armor they wore was unable to protect for mobility purposes.

All of them wore the armor of an elite commando unit within the UNSC, known as Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, or ODSTs for short. Their pressurized suits were worn under thick armored plating that covered every place it needed to. Traditionally, the angular plating covered the chest, shoulders, elbows, forearms, thighs, knees, shins, and part of the boots. The back was also mostly armored, but this was not an issue usually due to the armored backpack most troopers wore. The inner thigh was exposed, but this was one of the areas that the thick kevlar plating took over instead. Of course, all this was worn in addition to a full-faced helmet that covered the entire head.

Normally, the armor would be painted primarily jet black, with the thighs and forearms being painted an urban camouflage color. The helmet and forearms would have stripes painted across them to denote rank and position; White was attributed to the standard troops, and red would be seen amongst squad leaders.

At the far end of the table, away from the man who was controlling the display, was a giant of a man. He stood at a gargantuan seven feet tall, a muscle-bound behemoth weighing in at two hundred fifty pounds' worth of raw power. His armor was less than traditional. It retained standard colors, albeit having been accented with orange stripes along his shoulders and chest, as well as his helmet. Due to his immense size, he had removed the shoulder and bicep plates, which would have undoubtedly restricted his movement, replacing them with more of the thick kevlar. He wore the survival pack of a medic, but was trained in demolitions. So instead of carrying medical supplies, he carried an extra couple of rockets for the M41 Surface-to-Surface Rocket Medium Anti-Vehicle/Assault Weapon he carried, plainly known as the M41 rocket launcher.

The man's face was what one probably ought to expect from someone his size. He had a long face, with a square jaw that seemed to defiantly jut out at whoever dared oppose him. He wore some what of a scowl across his face, a sign he was not one to mess around in the least. His head was shaved, leaving nothing to focus on really other than the numerous scars across his face or his sunken brown eyes, always shaded by his bony brow ridge.

His name was Gunny Sergeant Robert Bane.

To the left of Bane, as if in stark contrast, stood a not-so-intimidating figure. Standing at five feet and three inches tall, Sayomi Williams was almost laughable to see. The girl wasn't particularly remarkable, with plain features of a teenager, apart from a few scars- she had brown hair and blue eyes, and looked hilarious standing in the bulky commando attire. She had just recently been promoted to a Corporal. She carried the M7S Caseless on most occasions, since her specialty was close quarters- Fitting, since she seemed to be the general expert when it came to vehicles.

Across from Sayomi was her sister, Ivy. She was more or less in the same boat as Sayomi, armor and rank included, so there was not much to be said as far as appearance apart from the face. Her eyes were hazel and her hair was dyed red, though it was naturally blonde. She swore she was the twin sister of Sayomi, but everyone with the proper clearance new better. They were months apart in age as it was. Ironically, the two weren't even related, either. Just close friends. She opted to use the MA5C ICWS, a bullpup assault rifle- Standard issue for the UNSC troops.

Now came the man at the head of the table. Standing at 6'6, the man stood just short of Bane in terms of height, but weighing in at two hundred sixty seven pounds, the man was obviously not a pushover either. His armor seemed almost hodgepodged together, and clearly he did not share Bane's interest in flexibility. Though most of it was still standard, the man opted to wear the more protective ODST/CQC-variant, a variation made for close quarters combat or use in demolitions.

The left shoulder was a large clamshell pauldron, bolted down to the top of the standard shoulder pad. The bicep of the same arm also had a piece bolted to it, an extention of the bicep plating that extended down to the forearm. Being right handed, it meant that the man held his left arm forward whenever he fired. By bulking up the armor on that arm, he created a shield for himself. Extra packages of ammunition were magnetized to his chest plate and strapped to each shin, and stuffed into his survival pack to the brim.

His battered, war-torn armor had the standard black parts, though he had opted for a different shade of red than the normal when it came to stripes. A deep maroon color, seeming almost the color of fresh blood. It trailed across his extra armor, across his biplate, and even was striped across his thighs horizontally. There was more, however, than just a color scheme.

The gloved fingers of his right hand drummed slowly upon his helmet, which was placed on the display table rather carelessly. The helmet also had the maroon stripe, but was different from that of the others. His bore extra armor plating at the crest of its dome, and around the back of its neck. The antenna of an external communications pod protruded from the right side of his helmet, vertically from his ear. Along the jawline, just under the clear visor, a pattern was painted onto it that made it look as though the helmet was what appears to be the upper portion of a jaw.

Another less than standard part of his paint job was the decal on his chest plate. On the central part of the chest plate, the large man had a stylized skull and crossbones, tilted to give it a view from the left. It appeared almost to be smiling. It bore a distinct resemblance to the _Totenkopf_, or "Death's Head" insignia used by some of the units in Germany during the second World War. Over five hundred years had passed since then.

The man's steel-blue eyes trailed slowly between the other three standing at the table, seeming to be looking for some hint at what they were thinking. Bane was cross-armed, clearly not caring. Ivy and Sayomi seemed to care just as equally as much, having expressions on their faces that were blanker than a fresh sheet of paper. He frowned, running his left hand through his bleach-blonde hair, which was much longer than it should have been, being slicked back to avoid it getting in his face.

His eyes narrowed, causing the scar that trailed down from the top of his forehead down to where his jaw connected with his skull to warp slightly. When he spoke, his voice was deep, authoritative, and did indeed have hints of a Germanic accent in the background. "In all of a week, they managed to assemble a fortress and dig in deep. Looks like we've got some trip ahead of us, ladies and gents," he stated, his mouth slowly turning into a toothy, lopsided grin as he did so. He rubbed the stubble upon his chin, seeming to be thinking about how difficult their job was going to be.

Bane shrugged his massive shoulders. "Turrets. Mortars. Hallways. A hundred thousand freaks inbetween. Should be no trouble," the man responded. Obviously he wasn't inclined to think anything could stand up to him. Ninety nine percent of the time he was right. The other part of the equation was when the other man had to bail him out of a Covenant prison.

Ivy yawned, then turned to look at the man at the head of the table. Her eyes rolled, and with a sarcastic tone she asked him a question, though the question was very clearly serious. "How come we always get the easy jobs, Sergeant Major?"

The man shrugged in return, but his grin didn't fade. "Maybe they just like us too much to send us to the front lines and et us die."

"Or maybe they don't want a Spook falling into the hands of the enemy if things turn sour." It was Sayomi this time.

That was true. The Sergeant Major wasn't a Marine, like they were. He was actually a member of the Office of Naval Intelligence, which meant he was part of the big organization behind the scenes of the UNSC. He was important. In truth, he used the Marine equivalent for his rank, his true rank being a Master Chief Petty Officer. However, due to being part of the ONI, he was forever labeled a "Spook"- the derogatory nickname for all those in ONI. His organization also required secrecy, and his usual attitude earned him the codename "Fullmetal."

The four of them formed Shadow Squad. Fullmetal headed the squad, Bane seconded it, and the other two served as subordinates. Their objective in its basic form was to infiltrate a Covenant fortress, ascend the top, and kill the leader of the forces in this sector- The Lesser Prophet known as the Prophet of Vigilance. Vigilance did not rank very high compared to others of his kind, but he was still in charge of the forces in this area. By killing him, they would completely collapse the chain of command.

Fullmetal shrugged again. "Fine. If that's the way you think it is, shut your mouths and get your rear ends into those pods. No time to waste now," he said, then began moving off toward a hallway to his right. The others were silent and followed suit. This hallway served as a small armory, where the group would pick up their assigned weapons on the way through. They inspected each weapon thoroughly before picking them up, wanting to make sure they would not break down in the middle of a firefight.

Fullmetal chose an M99 Special Applications Scoped Rifle, a ten-round sniper rifle that fired .21 caliber rounds. In addition, an M7S/Caseless submachine gun was chosen, a silenced submachine gun with a red-dot "reflex" sight. As always, he also brought his M6C/SOCOM, a twelve-round pistol equipped with an integrated silencer and scope, which fired .50 Magnum rounds. Lastly was standard-issue combat knife, which he sheathed upon his chest.

Bane's choice wasn't his usual, due to the need for more sensitivity in the mission. He chose an AIE-486HMG, a heavy machine gun that normally would be found mounted on a tripod rather than carried as a firearm. However, due to his immense size and strength, Bane could carry and fire the weapon with relative ease. He also chose to grab an M6D, which was essentially the same as the M6C/SOCOM (also known as an M6S), with the exception of being much stronger due to the lack of a silencer. At the same time, it was less accurate. He also opted to go with a standard-issue combat knife, a one and a half foot long dagger.

Ivy chose her MA5C and M6S, Sayomi her M7S and M6S. Most weapons in the UNSC had a special function, but their weapons were relatively standard.

Everyone also grabbed a white, green, and red smoke grenade- One each for a different purpose- and three M9 fragmentation grenades.

Upon completion of acquiring and inspecting the weapons had their safety turned off and were loaded. There was no sense in leaving them unarmed, because there was a good chance they could land in a "hot zone"- an area that had a lot of fighting- in which case they would have no time to stop and ready their weapons. If they even attempted that, there was a good chance they would be dead within the first ten seconds.

Once that was finished, the group moved down the hallway a little further, reaching the ship's starboard pod bay, where some sixteen pods sat waiting to be used. The Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicle, or SOEIV, was a simple craft. Featuring only one seat and a few weapon racks along with navigational and communications equipment inside an armored hull, the pod was designed for a one-way trip. The occupant would launch from the ship, then fall to the planet. After reaching a certain distance, the drag chutes would be deployed to break momentum, and the pod would maneuver itself to its landing zone.

The pods, however, were designed to be cheap and expendable. They had no conventional form of landing equipment, so they simply slammed hard into the ground. One simply had to hope that enough momentum was broken by the drag chutes to avoid killing the occupant on impact. This had been the cause of death for many ODSTs, but nobody really bothered to complain; Everyone understood the need for the way they were created.

Humorously, the nature of what happened during insertion had earned the ODSTs an interesting nickname. The entry through the atmosphere caused immense temperatures, reminiscent of the Biblical Hell. As such, the ODSTs were caused "Helljumpers."

The Helljumpers clambered into their pods and placed their weapons into their racks, but Bane hesitated. His unconventional weapon was hard to put into the racks, and his immense size made it hard for him to get into the pod. However, he eventually managed, and frowned at how cramped he was. He strapped himself in, then pressed his index finger into a button, and the hatch for the pod swung shut and sealed itself.

A fraction of a second later, the pod swung outward, and Bane had a full view of the battle going on in space. Seraphs, Longswords, and other starfighters chased each other through the once unoccupied space that was now filled with fighting and debris, exchanging positions and fire as situations changed. A HAVOK Nuclear Missile erupted from the _Waking Hour_'s missile bay, and streaked toward a CCS-Battlecruiser. The Battlecruiser exploded in a brilliant display, splitting directly in half before a series of smaller explosions tore it to pieces. Bane smiled at the Battlecruiser.

The lights of the pod flickered to life, banishing the pitch black darkness. The computer screens to either side of the viewport slowly crackled to life, the left showing the pod's flight plan, the right displaying the familiar death-themed helmet of Fullmetal. His helmet's visor was midnight blue, the polarizing option having been switched on. "Squad, report in," he demanded over the radio. He was smart enough to make sure everybody was good to go before launch.

"Shadow two is clear," Bane replied. As he did so, his eyes wandered to the edge of his computerized Heads-Up Display. He blinked twice at a sunglasses-shaped symbol, and his visor shimmered briefly before turning the same shade of midnight blue as the Sergeant Major's. The VISR, Visual Intelligence System/Reconnaissance, was a useful feature of the ODST's equipment. It had a built in compass, monitored how much ammunition the user had, monitored their vital status, monitored their squad's positions, highlighted places or objects of interest, identified living organisms as allies or foes, and other things.

"Shadow three's systems check up," Ivy chimed in over the radio.

"Shadow four is good to go." Sayomi's turn to speak.

"We are droppin' into Hell, troopers! Time to grow a pair!" Fullmetal exclaimed, his image on the computer giving a thumbs up. He then checked a couple more things, then nodded. "Drop!" Even as he was giving the command, Bane heard a low hiss as the clamps that connected the pods to the ship unlocked, and the pod shook for a moment as it fell free of the ship. A low whine started, then erupted into a dull roar as the rocket propulsion systems engaged and sent the pods on their course toward the planet.

Fullmetal seemed excited at the prospect of this mission, even as Bane witnessed a large chunk of debris nearly miss his pod. "A hundred thousand aliens on the wall, a hundred thousand Covenant! Take five down, bomb the rest, no more frickin' Covvie pests!" It was an obvious reference to the old drinking song, long since made up to accomodate Fullmetal's feelings on the whole war.

As he felt gravity slowly start to grip the pod, Bane soon found that he couldn't see anything anymore, surrounded by plain white as the pod entered the atmosphere. Clouds blocked out his sight, and caused small water droplets to form on his viewport. They never lasted long, however. The process of entering the atmosphere had superheated the pod, causing any water to boil off and evaporate. He found that he was staring at his computerized flight plan now, constantly checking his distance to the ground. He liked to have some idea of where he was.

As the pod finally started breaking through cloud level, Bane soon found that there was smoke everywhere, and he was somewhat horrified at his new revelation. The planet was mainly agricultural in nature, but you wouldn't know it from this point. The ground was _black_, and it worried Bane that he knew why. Small orange lights were still visible, confirming his fears. The Covenant, not wanting anyone to be able to sneak up on them and wanting clear building area, had burned down all the fields in the region around where they had built up their fortress.

Footsoldiers, vehicles, tanks, and aircraft were barely visible, but they were there. The fights below could be seen even from this high, making one realize just how violent the fighting must be. Bane was almost certain he could see them bleeding, but he knew it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

"Look at the size of that thing! Why can't _we _have a base like that?" Ivy exclaimed over the radio.

This broke Bane's attention on the fighting, and he looked around the ground for the object that had deserved such praise. It didn't take much effort. The massive purple spire's size was probably listed in the information specs back on the ship, but he couldn't recall them. All he knew was that it was dwarfed everything around them, not counting the ships in the atmosphere. The various smaller spires and domes around it only made it look bigger by comparison.

The Prophet was at the top, and it was a shame they couldn't just fly right in.

"Disengage downward thrusters and deploy drag chutes," Fullmetal's voice drifted in through the radio, clearly not impressed by the structure. Bane punched the command into the navigation system, and instantly heard the thrusters stop firing, then accompanied by a slowing of speed thanks to the drag chute breaking momentum. The navicomputer's screen flashed briefly, and the pod swung to the computer's decided landing zone.

He felt what happened next before he saw it.

A massive shockwave shook the air around them, and suddenly all Bane could see was a purple light. A massive white object was coming out of it, which Bane recognized as a Covenant Assault Carrier. The thundering boom of the Carrier coming out of slipspace was second in volume only to Fullmetal's surprised expletives. "Manual control, manu-" he began to shout, but the radio suddenly cut out, and the screen that normally would have displayed the Sergeant Major was filled with static. Bane couldn't see anybody's pod, and nobody was saying anything over the radio. He decided that the Carrier was jamming their long-range transmissions, and they would have to try again once they hit the ground.

Then he remembered that he still had the issue of avoiding slamming into the Carrier.

He punched a new command into the pod's navicomputer, and took a firm grip on the two control yokes, pulling hard to the right. The pod veered to the right just in time, narrowly avoiding a collision with the massive ship. He gave a sigh of relief, but it wasn't over yet. The pod was already too close to the ground to change direction too much, but he still had to choose a new landing point. A battle raged between ground forces below him, the same he had noted earlier, and he nodded solemnly. He veered off to land a bit behind the UNSC forces, deciding linking up with them to move forward toward the spire would be beneficial.

Bane grit his teeth, bracing for impact.


	2. Pushing Forward

The large man jolted in his seat as the pod slammed hard into the burnt soil, kicking up dirt, dust, and ashes in all directions. He took in a deep breath, then checked himself over. Seeing he was still alive and intact, he unbuckled himself and slammed his fists into the three explosive bolts that held the hatch in place. He nearly chuckled as he saw the hatch being sent sailing through the air and out of sight.

He jumped out of the pod, instantly smelling the scorched ground beneath his feet. He reached back briefly, grabbing the heavy machine gun and pistol from their spots in the weapon racks. He locked the pistol in place on his armor, using the convenient technology of magnetic strips to his advantage. Standard firearms and armor had magnets built into them, which got rid of the need for holsters.

Checking to make sure the machine gun was loaded again, the man began to run forward toward the sound of guns ringing out and tanks firing their shells at the enemy. The smell of gunpowder, plasma, burning, and decay was heavy in the air.

After some five minutes' worth of running, being slowed down thanks to the weight of the massive weapon he carried, Bane arrived at the top of a hill, just in time to witness a plasma mortar vaporize a pair of Marines. He felt his gut wretch in disgust, but he supressed the need to act on it. He sprinted toward an M808B "Scorpion" Main Battle Tank, seeing a couple Marines taking up cover behind it.

Their eyes widened in surprise, but they smiled at him. "Helljumpers? Thank God, we could use your help!" one exclaimed. The other stood up to fire a few rounds at the foes on the other side of the trenches.

"I'm headed toward the spire," Bane replied bluntly. "Is the only way to get there straight through the enemy?"

The Marine nodded, but the other that hadn't spoken yet shook his head. "Not quite. Covvies got a trench behind 'em that runs straight to the place."

Bane nodded in response, knowing what that meant. He had to tear through them if he wanted to get to the spire. That was fine, he was used to doing things the hard way anyhow.

Standing up and moving around the side of the tank, Bane found himself staring down an oncoming Covenant lance- their equivalent of a squad- and brought his machine gun up to fire. Most of them were Unggoy. They were the lowest caste in the Covenant military. Unggoy were short and stocky, looking like an ugly combination between a lizard and a monkey. Above all else, though, they were cowardly. They talked a lot of trash, but that was only when they were backed up by those stronger than them. Once the leader was gone, they turned tail and_ ran_ as fast as their short legs could take them.

They were the most numerous of the Covenant, apart from maybe the Yanme'e. Due to their massive numbers and cowardess, their best value was as cannon fodder. For cost-effectiveness (and due to being considered worthless) they were given poor armor and equipment, and weak weaponry. They wore torso armor and a gas mask, along with a methane tank. They were gas breathers, so they had to wear a gas mask and tank or else they would suffocate. This was another one of their massive downfalls, because if their gas mask was damaged or their tank destroyed, they would be dead. Some were issued a helmet, but most were not. Most carried the Type-25 Directed Energy Pistol, or plasma pistol, which was relatively standard issue for the Covenant. Because of their overall role, they were called "Grunts" by the UNSC.

This lance carried some five Grunts, and was led by a Minor Elite. The Sangheili were eight foot tall monsters, that was certain. They were humanoid in shape, but there were several differences. The most noticeable first was the fact that they had digitigrade legs to support their massive weight, with bird-like feet. The next was their hands, which had two fingers and two thumbs, their size easily capable of wrapping completely around a Human head. They were hunchbacked, with long necks and round heads, which had no visible nose and sunken yellow eyes. Most noticeably about their face, however, were their quadruple-hinged mandibles, each with six teeth, that took the place of a jaw.

The Sangheili were the highest military-based rank of the Covenant, just under prophets. This gained them the nickname "Elites." This granted them far superior protection when compared with a race like the Grunts. They had full armor, which covered everything, and was changed slightly to accomodate rank or function, and had a self-contained shielding system that would protect them from all harm until it was depleted. The color was the way one method to tell their ranks, as was their weapon. The Minors wore blue, and this one in particular carried a Type-25 Directed Energy Rifle, a small blue weapon that spewed plasma at whatever it was aimed at.

Bane closed his index finger around the trigger, and was met with the sound of gears whirring loudly as the three barrels began to spin up. A few of the Grunts jumped in surprise, which bought him plenty of time. With a loud pop, the first shot from his machine gun sounded off, and was soon followed by a dull roar as the gun reached its full rate of fire. The first Grunt went down even before the fire rate was at maximum, the first three shots having punched a hole through its chest so large that the one standing behind it could see through him.

The other few went down even faster as he swept his aim, not bothering to take his finger off the trigger. Within all of five seconds, all that remained of the Unggoy were bodies and a pool of luminous blue goop, their blood. He took his finger off the trigger just long enough to shift his aim without wasting ammunition, setting his sights on the Elite. It had rolled out of the line of fire when he first started shooting, but now he had the ugly alien pinned. It raised its plasma rifle, and pulled the trigger, sending a volley of three blue superheated plasma rounds at him, but they all went wide left.

He squeezed the trigger again, the weapon spitting more light-armor-piercing rounds at the alien. The armor seemed to cry out as metal hit metal, and the shielding system flashed blue each time a bullet hit. The alien staggered backward, incapable of moving against the volatile current. After enough damage was taken, an electrical flash enveloped the alien. Bane smiled, knowing that meant its shields were gone. He shifted his aim at the thing's face, which was unarmored. Purple blood flew in all directions, and the thing cried out in pain as it had more holes punched through it. Finally, it fell backward, and Bane let go of the trigger. It was dead.

Bane looked about briefly once the deed was done, and was met with the sight of a DX-Class Dropship hovering over from where the Covenant had made their fortifications. It began to rake the battlefield with purple plasma rounds, but was abruptly halted as a trio of tanks hammered it with ninety millimeter rounds. With a loud metallic screech, the aircraft erupted into a blue ball of flame, showering bits of metal all over the battlefield. The cab of the ship fell directly downward, flattening a large lance as it buried its burning hull into the dirt.

"Move up!" came the call of a Marine somewhere ahead of him. An M12 Light Reconnaissance Vehicle- a cross between a truck and a jeep with a large machine gun mounted in the bed of it, called a Warthog- rolled past him, and was soon accompanied by the Scorpion tanks. He shrugged, then hopped onto one of the armored skids that covered the treads of a tank rolling past him. With the weapon he had, he wanted to do as little walking as possible.

Bane thanked whoever designed the ODST armor for the sound dampening systems installed in his helmet. Even with it, the sound of the tank's main cannon firing and the machine guns rattling on had caused him a great headache. His ear drums were pounding inside his skull.

As the tanks reached the downed dropship, Bane heard the familiar throbbing sound of the Type-33 Light Anti-Armor Weapon, a Fuel Rod Gun. He could only watch with horror as a set of large green energy balls flew toward a Warthog on his right, which had its armor slowly cave in and turn black before the vehicle exploded, its occupants all killed instantly.

Learning from this mistake, Bane jumped off the tank and darted for cover behind the dropship.

The thing smelled of burning metal and flesh, but he didn't notice. Nor did he notice the four-fingered hand jutting out from under the wreckage, still twitching as if its owner might have still been alive. What he did notice, however, was a Type-32 Rapid Assault Vehicle- Otherwise known as a Ghost- coming directly at the tank, as he peered through a massive hole in the hull. It didn't last long, however, as it got shelled and was sent flying through the air in a million pieces.

Taking his relatively safe opportunity, Bane activated his radio and decided to see if he could manage to contact any of his squadmates. "This is Shadow two, any surviving Shadow Squad members please respond, over," he said calmly, although he felt like screaming it. He was met with a brief static crackle, but nobody said anything in return. "Shadow Squad, do you copy? Over!"

Another static crackle, but this time he could hear something else. "- _Bzzzt_- landed- _Bzzt_- near the objective! _Bzzt_- immediate assistance- _Bzzt_- over!" Though most of the message was lost in translation, enough of it got through for him to understand. He needed to get to the spire, quickly.

As if on cue, the Marine called out again. "Move up!" he called, and everybody began to move forward again. Bane moved out from behind the downed ship, and began to run toward where the hostiles were. He was quickly met with the purple barriers the Covenant so often used as blockades and cover. About fifty meters behind them were a line of Shade turrets, easily recognizable by their orange cages and firing pattern.

The tanks smashed hard into the barriers, doing their best to knock them over. Though they were hard to knock over, they were somehow managing, and they fired over them frequently at the turrets on the other side. They often missed due to the poor line of sight, but when they hit, it was instant destruction for the turrets.

Bane weaved through the barriers, and within three minutes, a tank finally managed to smash through the final line of the barricades, and fired at the turrets once again without even breaking stride. Bane, deciding to play things smart, moved behind the tank and followed it until it smashed through the turrets. Finally it came to a halt, and he moved out from behind it. The turrets were all gone, and he was standing directly in front of the trench the Marines had previously mentioned.

He jumped in, finding that it was about a foot over his head. The walls were dirt, and the floor was clay. That meant that he could finally get some half-decent footing, not stumbling over his own feet continually. He quickly began to run through the trench, hoping it would take him where he needed to go- If it didn't, he was screwed.

He finally had to slow down as he met a part of the trench that had collapsed, which he jumped over briefly. However, no sooner than his feet hit the ground, a green projectile flew past his head, causing him to drop to the ground for cover. However, as he did so, his machine gun fell out of reach, causing him to rip his pistol off its holstered position and level it with the first thing he saw- a Grunt Major.

The red armor the thing wore didn't count for much, because one the man pulled the trigger, the .50 Magnum round flew through the air and punched straight through the thing's gas mask and out the back of its head, showering blue goop everywhere. He continued to pull the trigger, not bothering to discriminate targets. Most of the group he was encountering were Grunts, five of them. The sixth was a Kig-yar.

Also known as Jackals, the Kig-yar were bloodthirsty aliens that looked like birds without feathers, and arms instead of wings. Some had beaks, but others had more alligator-like snouts. They had varying colors of skin, and wore black jumpsuits for flexibility purposes rather than actual armor. Some were equipped with a personal defense gauntlet, which produced a disc-shaped shield, and carried a one-handed weapon such as the plasma pistol. Others served as dedicated sniper units.

Upon dispatching the Grunts, Bane found that the Jackal had ran right at him. It had a shield, however, and was covering most of its body. Bane scowled then fired at the slot in the shield where the weapon could be aimed through. His plan worked, and the M6D pulverized the alien's hand, causing it to fly into a frenzy. It ran at him in a sprint, snapping its snout wildly as it did so. He wasn't really sure what was happening.

In an act he had never witnessed before, the thing actually tried to _bite_ Bane. He thrust his left arm forward, and the thing clamped down on his forearm- Which was armored heavily enough to result in the thing breaking all its teeth. As it squawked in pain, Bane leveled his M6D with the bird-like alien's head- And blew it clean off its shoulders.

Bane blinked twice, finding that he couldn't see anything but purple. However, as he ran a hand across his visor, he remembered that Jackals had purple blood, which he had just inadvertently coated his visor with. He felt his gut wretch again, but cleaned off his visor and stood up. He holstered the M6D again, then moved to pick up his machine gun.

After a few moments' worth of travel, Bane found himself staring into the mouth of a tunnel. Shrugging, he flicked on his VISR's Low-Light option, which changed his sight so that he could see in the dark. He readied his machine gun, then moved into the tunnel. This was a good area for a potential ambush.

Instead, what he found at the end of the tunnel was a pair of Marines. "Look, a commando!" one shouted, raising his fist in the air in triumph.

The other nodded. "If they're anything as good as I hear they should practically win this was themselves!"

Bane shook his head, but let the two have their dreams without correcting them. He forked right after he met up with them, and the three moved into a small open area. There were two tunnels here, both of which were barricaded off. "We've barricaded the tunnels so they cant get through," a new Marine, who had been in this open area stated. No sooner than he did, a loud boom sounded, and the whole room was full of smoke.

Everyone raised their weapons at once, and Bane swore under his breath. Grunts were flooding into the tunnel, as were a Minor and Major Domo Elite. "Take down the Grunts!" Bane commanded, pulling the trigger of his weapon. His machine gun spat rounds at the red-armored Major Domo, who was slightly stronger than a Minor. He grit his teeth as he spotted the weapon the thing had. A Needler.

The Needlers were nasty little weapons. The Type-33 Guided Munitions Launcher was a small, one-handed weapon that fired long, pink, crystal-like projectiles that could _track_ their target to a certain point. If enough made their mark, they would detonate, either heavily wounding or killing their target. Fortunately, they only exploded if they hit living targets, rather than vehicles.

Unfortunately, Bane was a living target.

The thing managed to fire two rounds before his weapon started firing, both of which hit the Marine who had informed him of the barricade. One hit him in the chest, the other in the eye. Though it wasn't enough to make an explosion, it didn't need to. The Marine slumped to the floor, dead.

Bane let out a loud cry, firing at the Major Domo. It turned toward him to fire, but quickly found itself under a hailstorm of bullets, forcing it backward. Finally, its shields dropped, and the machine gun punched a hole right through its gut. Though severely wounded, the thing wasn't dead yet. Bane shifted his aim upward, and force-fed the alien a few more rounds.

Shifting his attention toward the second Elite, Bane found that he had to spend a lot less effort on this foe. The Marines had not entirely followed his orders, and divided their attention between the Elite and the Grunts. The Elite had been rather successfully weakened, even having its shields dropped. Within a couple rounds of firing, the thing dropped like a lead weight.

Spinning once again to redirect his attention, the man saw that all but one of the Grunts was dead. Shortly after he realized this, the last one's methane tank erupted, enveloping the pitiful alien in a green fireball. The whole fight had only lasted a few seconds, really, and he hadn't had to waste much ammunition. Only one of the Marines was dead, and they had neutralized all hostiles.

Very good.

He motioned the two forward, walking through one of the barriers that had been blown open. As he passed by a corpse, he scooped up a pair of blue orbs and stuffed them into an ammunition pouch. Type-1 Antipersonnel Grenades. They were alien "plasma" grenades, had a tendency to stick to living targets... and blow them clean apart. He supposed they could be useful for later

He kept his weapon steady, walking out into what remained of the sunlight (Most of it having been blocked out by ashes or ships) and immediately wished he hadn't. A purple beam flew within an inch of his skull, and he could see the Jackal that had fired it running out of view. A pair of fighters roared overhead, and he smiled as he heard the Jackal let out a yelp at the same time as one of the fighters fired off a few rounds.

However, at the same time, a lance of Grunts rounded the corner. They were without a strong leader to back them up, instead using a Grunt Ultra as their leader. The white-armored little things were not any stronger than their comrades, they were just... Slightly smarter. This one was wielding a Needler, which drew another curse from Bane.

Dodging out of the way of a trio of pink crystal-like needles, the man slammed hard into the ground on his side, and used the floor as a mount for his weapon. He pulled the trigger and held it there, weapon sputtering loudly as it tore through the small squad. He heard the sound of rifles clattering behind him, and was pleased by the sight of the little things being torn apart. The Ultra went down first, fortunately, and was soon followed by the rest of its kind.

As Bane stood up, he smelled burnt flesh. He turned around, and saw that one of the Marines had been hit square between the eyes with a plasma pistol. Everything from the jaw up was gone, but there was no blood. The heat cauterized the wounds instanty. He admired that in a way, but he hated it for the smell.

The other Marine, though slightly teary-eyed, followed Bane around a corner. The whine of a quadruple-barrel Shade turret became evident, and Bane thought he was very nearly whiplashed as his head shot upward to meet the sound. There was a slight hill in front of him, and atop it was the familiar orange cage, surrounded by purple barricades. Grunts and Elites sat around it casually, directing the thing where to fire.

The Marine tapped him on the shoulder, whispering low. "Lob one of those plasma grenades at 'em. Maybe you can take out the turret and some of the group." Bane nodded, smiling. He knew there was a good reason why he had grabbed the grenades, and now here it was. Fate had a funny way of doing that.

He drew the small, blue orb from his pouch, and pressed his thumb into the activation mechanism. The thing began to glow dimly, and he hurled it with all his might. It began to glow brighter and brighter in that aqua color, and sailed directly into the turret's cage, sticking directly turret. The aliens around the cage looked up in surprise as the grenade let out a low whine, but none realized what was happening in time. The grenade exploded, and most of the opposition disappeared.

A few gunshots later, and all of the hostiles were gone. Bane slowly trekked up this small big of hill, his Marine ally in tow. Not far in front of him was the massive fortress, which was surrounded by a lot of rocky terrain that he was fairly certain he could not manage to climb. "Help me look for a way through," he told the Marine, who nodded in return. They both must have had a similar objective, he assumed, and he was not picky enough to ask.

Finally, Bane made the discovery that the area under the turret was, actually, empty. It had probably even been an extension of the tunnels that were behind him that had collapsed. Fortunately, the explosion between the grenade and the chain reaction from the turret created a hole large enough for him to climb through. He chuckled, then turned to the Marine. "This way!"

The man nodded, and made a step forward. In mid-step, however, something behind him glinted in the distance... And a purple beam ripped clean through his chest. The man didn't even cry out, didn't make sounds or movement. He just hit the ground and rolled back down the hill. Bane made a grab for his pistol, which would be more accurate than the machine gun, but it was too late. The sniper had gotten away.

Not wanting to waste a second more here, Bane jumped through the hole in the floor and found himself in partial darkness. Enough of the area was lit up by holes in the ceiling, however, to prevent the need for low-light vision. In the distance, he could hear somebody else yelling... A female voice.

Bane sprinted hard forward, nearly tripping over his own feet. He came to a point where the tunnel had been bombed out, creating a ramp to the surface. He didn't hesitate to climb up and out of the tunnel, and took a look around. He was behind a few rocks, and the sounds of plasma and gunfire being exchanged were around. As he climbed up and peered around the side of the rock, he was pleased to find that he was behind the few enemies that were around.

Three Grunts were all that remained, the enemies that had been here before his arrival all already dead. He brought his weapon to bear, and spun up the barrels. The monkey-lizard aliens turned around in surprise, but that didn't count for much as the armor-piercing rounds punched right through them. He didn't waste a second, identifying the area where the woman he had heard must have been. "Star!" he called. It was a challenge, which an ally would meet with a counter to confirm they were friendly. It was valuable in making sure you didn't shoot each other.

There was no response, but something moved behind a barrier.

"Star, or I'll shoot!" he called again, this time readying his weapon.

A short, black-armored figure slowly stood up behind the barrier, hands in the air. A rifle was in the person's hands. "Don't shoot, alright? I don't know the stupid counter-sign." The voice confirmed it: Sayomi.

Bane half smiled and half frowned at the same time, jogging forward slowly to meet the girl. "The proper response is _Texas_, trooper. Remember that." As he spoke, he was sure the girl was rolling her eyes. He made a few neural commands in his helmet, trying to figure out why it was she wasn't already registering as herself via Identity tag. "Linking up with your VISR."

He looked around slowly. Though there was the sounds of hostiles nearby, that didn't concern him. What did was the fact that she was alone. She and her sister were inseperable. That boded bad things. "Any word from the rest of the squad?"

Sayomi shook her head. "I think Ivy's pod crashed close-by. She might already be inside. As for the Sergeant Major, well... A couple times I fought, a couple of them were killed by a sniper. But I never could figure out where the sneak was. I think it was him, somewhere..." She hesitated, then looked up at the spire. "Somewhere above us."

Bane swore again, then looked around. They were in a blasted bowl, surrounded on all sides. Some loose rock, however, seemed promising. "Do me a favor and grab me some explosives out of my pack, will ya?" he asked, jerking a thumb at the pack. The girl moved forward, and he waited patiently.

"Is this it?" the girl asked, shoving an M168 Demolition Charge forward.

"Perfect. One fireball special, coming right up..." He took the charge, and stripped off the adhesives on the back. He then shoved the small box onto the surface of the rock, and punched in the timer. He pressed the arming button, and turned the knob-like lever on the front. The light went from green to red on the handle, and Bane quickly jogged away from the charge, ushering the girl away as well.

Five seconds later, the rock was cleared in a massive explosion that ensured nothing would remain in their path. Before the smoke had even cleared, the two ran through their new opening. They were forced to take cover, however, as they spotted something. A large, purple, bulbous object sat right in the way. A Covenant Type-25 Assault Gun Carriage (Also known as a Wraith), a plasma-mortar-spewing tank, sat no more than ten meters away.

Bane held up a finger, signaling for patience, and set his frequency to send a comm to somebody. Anybody who would be around to listen, really. "This is Oscar-Delta-Sierra-Tango Shadow-Two of Shadow Squad, requesting air support on the following coordinates. We have a Wraith in our path." He sent the appropriate information, and waited.

A dull roar began in the distance, and he could see the aircraft jetting toward them. "Acknowledged, Shadow two. Air support inbound." Within a mere ten seconds of saying that line, Bane could see the aircraft was an AC-220 Gunship. Several ANVIL-IV Air-to-Surface missiles streaked from its rocked bays, launching high into the air for a moment before streaking back toward the ground... And reduced the Wraith to a flaming hulk. It had taken only a moment for the Gunship to strafe the area and fly away, opening the path.

Bane hauled Sayomi to her feet, and darted out from behind the cover. He smiled up at the sight in front of him. He was standing at one of the smaller entrances of the spire, which was now completely unguarded. Without any delay, he darted forward into the place, with Sayomi following closely behind him.


	3. Knock Knock

The sound of their armored boots upon the metal floor got old quickly, so when they arrived at the gravity-lift, it was a relief. Throwing all caution to the wind, Bane stepped into the chamber, and was immediately sent upward by a current of what appeared to be blue air. The feeling of weightlessness was, to him, very strange. He didn't like it. It didn't last long, however, as the current ended and he found his feet on the metal again, easily a few stories above where they had been.

A few sleeping Grunts were all that guarded the hallway, which was pitiful in a way. He rolled his eyes, hearing Sayomi come out of the lift behind him. Undisciplined soldiers, these Unggoy were. He set his machine gun down slowly, and gestured for the girl to take the two on the right side while he handled the three on the left. He unsheathed his combat knife, and got to work.

The first one he snapped its neck. The second one, he slit its throat. The third, he flattened under his foot. He wasn't sure what the girl had done, but she hadn't made any noise doing it. So that was nothing to scoff at.

As they reached the end of the hallway, Bane smeared the blue blood on the wall, then sheathed it. He frowned, seeing the door was going to be stubborn. Sparks emitted from it, and it seemed slightly off. He shrugged, realizing it was probably broken by structural damage. He placed another charge on the door, and blew the door open.

As he walked through, he chuckled at what he saw. Ivy Williams, without a helmet, was sitting upon an Elite Major Domo, inspecting the thing's plasma rifle. He gestured for her to get up. "Three out of four. Put your bucket back on. Why haven't you moved forward?" he asked. Unfortunately, he had to wait for his answer while Sayomi ran forward and the two embraced.

Once that ordeal was over, Ivy shrugged, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "Well genius, if you took a moment to glance behind me, you would've seen the energy barrier that is blocking the way." He frowned, raising a brow and looking past her. Indeed, the next doorway was filled with a bright yellow light that belonged to an energy blocker.

He frowned, not really knowing how to proceed.

He looked around for some sort of hint, then pointed at an object jutting out of the wall. "Ivy, you're good with computers. Think you can try hacking that thing?" he asked. It was obviously some form of controls to the barrier. At least, according to his instincts it was.

The girl nodded. "I can try, but I would be lying if I said I knew how to read their language very well," she responded, moving toward it.

"Just do your best. Linking up to your VISR, meanwhile."

About three minutes later, the barrier shimmered and disappeared. "Good job, you got it. Let's go." He wasn't willing to waste any more time with this than he had to. He moved into the next room, and frowned as he heard a familiar buzzing noise. "Ah, crap. Drone swarm."

The insectoids flew from the walls quickly, coming from every opening possible. The Yanme'e created a red and yellow and black display, with a few green flashes. It was interesting, but Bane just wanted them dead. They were bugs the size of people, essentially flies with intelligence and enough dexterity to wield a weapon. Problem was, they weren't smart enough to run away, which left them with only one option: Fight.

Bane spun up his weapon and began firing. He could hear the other two already shooting. He didn't bother wasting time with burst-fire, deciding that with this many buggers around, he had to hit _something_. It looked like he was, considering yellow liquid seemed to keep sputtering, and he heard the large bugs hit the ground. He hated these things. They weren't really dangerous, just annoying. A waste of ammunition in its own right.

Bane finally found that his weapon wasn't firing anymore, met instead with a horrifying sound: A click. The man frowned, knowing he was out of ammunition at a poor time. He dropped the weapon, removing his pistol from his thigh and dodging out of the way of a few poorly-aimed shots. He fired into the swarm, which was only about five strong now, and dropped two quickly. The other two were hit by Ivy and Sayomi, which he was thankful for.

Bane reloaded his pistol, then placed it back on his thigh. He then picked up his machine gun, and went through the long process of reloading it. Pulling back on the charging handle, open the feed tray, remove the old ammunition box, put in a new one, close the feed tray, and pull on the charging handle again. It took a good twenty seconds to do, which made it a pain. Fortunately, one didn't need to reload often with the two-hundred-round boxes, and the rounds had enough firepower from keeping one from wasting a lot of ammo.

Sighing and finding it annoying to wade through bug guts, Bane moved to the door on the other side of the room. Typically, it was locked. Sighing, out of time and patience, Bane checked to make sure the other two were behind him. He pointed at the locking mechanism. "Hack the door, Ivy." Within a few seconds, it was open.

As the group rushed in, they soon found they were in an aircraft hangar. Two Type-26 Ground Support Aircraft, Banshees, were harbored below them, as they were on top of a catwalk. They were being refueled, or something along those lines. Elites filled the chamber. One Ultra, three Minors, and two Anti-Gravity-Pack-wearing Rangers. However, apparently even the door opening was enough to draw attention, and the inhabitants of the chamber whipped around to face the intruders.

"Open fire!" Bane called, focusing first on the Ultra. It had a sniper rifle, which made it deadly. It took a good fifteen seconds to down its shields, and another five to kill the son of a gun. No sooner than he had, a blue-armored Ranger landed directly in front of him. Bane dropped his machine gun, and the thing roared through its full-faced helmet. He pulled his M6D out, leveling it with the alien's eye, and pulled the trigger three times before it even realized he had pulled it out. The alien stumbled back and hit the ground, very clearly dead. "Don't touch me," Bane hissed.

Two Minors were dead, which was good. Bane looked up briefly, and saw that the other Ranger was jetting toward Ivy, with its back to him. He raised a brow, then raised the pistol. "Clever little idiot, ain'tcha?" He pulled the trigger, and the armor-piercing round smashed into the fuel tank of the alien's Anti-Gravity pack. The fuel tank ignited, and the ranger was sent hurtling in all directions before finally disappearing out the hangar's entrance. In the time it took for that to finally happen, Bane had holstered his pistol, picked up his machine gun, and the three of them gunned down the final Minor.

With that task taken care of, Bane moved down the ramp of the catwalk, finding himself standing between the two aircraft. He hardly wanted the two Banshees to be used in combat against them. He rigged up another explosive charge in a few seconds, then took cover behind an ammunition crate. After the boom, he was pleased to see the two ships were nothing but flaming scrapmetal.

Unfortunately, the door at the other side of the hangar flew open, and Grunts came swarming in. Hefting his machine gun up, he began to open fire on the annoying little things, really wishing they could have just carpet bombed the fortress. Then something unexpected happened; The whole spire shook, and the lights flickered out.

"Low-light!" Bane shouted, switching over to the Night Vision even as he spoke. The Grunts seemed baffled, flailing about in the darkness and not knowing where they were going. Some even shot at each other, which was somewhat funny to see. However, with no time to waste, the three gunned them down and moved through the door they had gone through, passed down a hallway, and found himself entering another gravity lift.

Upon reaching the top, Bane swore once again. Another hangar, which had full lighting. He sighed, switching back to standard vision, and saw that it was the same as before. Two Banshees, and a lot of Elites. The same kind, in the same numbers. He rolled his eyes, then hefted his machine gun and started to fire.

One firefight later, Bane sighed and found himself looking at the ruined ships. The same as the last time, he'd demolished these, too. Which, _also the same as last time_, drew Grunts screaming through a doorway at the other side of the hallway. _Just like last time_.

Fortunately, _this time_, the lights didn't go out.

As Bane, Ivy, and Sayomi pushed forward and gunned down the resistance, they quickly found themselves passing through the same door the Grunts had come through. It looked to be a small ammunitions room, which somewhat surprised him. He was expecting another open stretch of hallway, with not much in it. He shrugged, finding himself weaving through the boxes, keeping on his guard for any possible hiding enemies.

None came.

Bane paused at a door and looked at his tactical information in his VISR briefly, then nodded. He gestured the girls forward. "There's a ledge on the other side of this door. We can rappel down to the Prophet's planning room from there," he stated, charging through the door. He didn't care much what would be on the other side, as long as this mission was over soon.

Bane paused at the ledge, looking around. They were actually_ outside_, at the top of the spire. It had a beautiful view, stretching for miles... Or at least it would've, if the view wasn't all scorched terrain. He clipped his zip-line to the railing, instructing his squadmates to do the same. He then climbed over the railing, and slowly lowered himself down on the zip-line, the others in easy view to either side of him.

As he saw the ground, his eyes fell upon two Elites in strange outfits. Red base with purple accents, with orange and gold additions to the shoulders, thighs, and helmet. The helmet's addition looked like horns. They carried massive, spear-like weapons that were seventeen feet long. They had zero combat function, according to the Office of Naval Intelligence, but they still looked intimidating. They were Honor Guardsmen, with their sole purpose being to protect the Prophets.

As Bane saw them, he also saw something else. A dark, black figure was crouching in a small alcove above the window they were guarding. His eyes widened, and he immediately recognized the Close-Quarters variant of the ODST armor. Moreover, he recognized the exotic decal, and the deathly-themed helmet. It was Fullmetal, who had been missing all this time.

The Sergeant Major suddenly jumped out from the alcove, his combat knife in one hand and submachine gun in the other. His feet slammed hard into the shoulders of the Elite to Bane's left, who dropped not only under the man's weight, but out of the fact that the Spook had placed his combat knife into the Elite's outstretched neck, which had to be left woefully under-protected for flexibility purposes. No sooner than he hit the ground, he tore his knife back out and found that the other Elite was on the offensive.

The Honor Guardsman swung his staff at the Spook, who ducked easily under the ungraceful shot. The Elite, evidently realizing how utterly useless the stave was, let go of the spear upon completing the swing, and made a grab for something at his hip. In one fluid motion, the Elite now had grabbed and activated a Type-1 Energy Weapon: A sword with a horizontal handle, with two energized blades that forked outward from either side. It was comparable to a katar, with energy blades.

The Elite charged at Fullmetal, making another swing, which he just as easily ducked under as the first time. Standing back up, the man stepped briefly to the right as it tried to rebound with a stab. He brought up one leg hard in a snap-kick, straight to the Elite's face. The alien was instantly knocked off-balance and accidentally relinquished its weapon. In an instant, the Sergeant Major was upon it, and placed the barrel of his weapon between its mandibles. He pullled the trigger, and in a purple flash, the thing was obviously dead.

All this happened while Bane was still in the air, and Fullmetal was in the process of sheathing his combat knife as he finally touched the ground. The Spook looked over at the squad, waving briefly before he gave a thumbs-up. It was somewhat eery.

Bane, approaching the Sergeant Major, looked at what had just transpired. It was... Strangely and brutally efficient. "Had some fun getting acquainted with the aliens, huh boss?" he asked sarcastically.

"That was fun." The words half-sent a shiver up Bane's spine. There wasn't an ounce of sarcasm or way to detect the man was kidding. In retrospect, looking at the man's actions even on the ship, he realized he probably _wasn't_ kidding.

Fullmetal turned around slowly, facing the thing the Guards had been guarding. A large piece of glass stood in front of them. A window. On the other side, a large, circular table could be seen with holographic images being projected from it. It wasn't so unlike the one in their ship that they had been viewing shortly before the mission, actually. "Vigilance is in there. I was saving him for when I had a better plan than "Wait for the others." Which, you know, I was too busy to formulate on very well."

Indeed, the Prophet was on the other side of the glass. With his back to the window, no less. The San 'Shyuum were a relatively fragile race, though whether that was due to genetics of pure laziness was unknown. They were so weak they usually refused to walk, so the High Prophets actually floated about in massive Gravity Thrones, while the Lesser Prophets wore belts that achieved the same Anti-Gravity effect. Vigilance was of the latter.

Interestingly, the San 'Shyuum actually bore somewhat of a resemblance to a turtle without its shell, an elongated neck, and with a mouth rather than a beak. Even the color and texture of their skin was somewhat the same. They also tended to wear long robes of various colors, of which Vigilance had purple. How original, given that everything in the Covenant seemed to be purple. He also had an interesting crown-like object upon his head.

Guards surrounded him from all sides.

Fullmetal gestured at the window, shrugging. "After you?"

Bane got the picture. He took a few steps back, then threw his hulking mass right through the window, shattering it instantly.

Before he even hit the floor, the squad was through the window and opening fire. Their objective was to kill the Prophet, but he was on the other side of the room. The bodyguards moved to position themselves between Shadow Squad and the Prophet so as to ensure his escape. However, between their combined efforts, the squad managed to gun down the guards. This was not quickly enough, however, as Vigilance had already fled through a door at the other side of the room.

"Don't let him get away!" Fullmetal called, leaping on top of the holographic display and using it as a platform to run at the door. However, as he came close to reaching the door, the door actually _opened_... In stepped two of the squad's worst nightmares.

Fullmetal quite literally flipped out of the way, the slowly-moving green orbs shooting through the doorway as the throbbing sound of a Fuel Rod Gun fired repeatedly. The rounds all slammed hard into the display table, which exploded into a million pieces and showered sparks in all directions. As it did, the Brute War Chieftain stepped in, not discriminating in his targets at all.

The Jiralhanae were almost worse than the Elites. They stood anywhere between eight and a half feet to nine feet tall, combinations of Humans and Gorillas to put it bluntly. They regularly weighed three quarters of a ton, and the intelligence of a rock. Still, they were strong, and they were savage. More savage than the Elites. This made them incredibly deadly, considering their choice of weaponry usually always had at least one massive blade attached to it.

War Chieftains were, in reality, even worse. Not only did these rules apply, but these super-Sasquatch warriors had better armor than their bretheren. They also had bigger, more powerful weapons. Like this one, who was wielding a typical weapon of their kind, a Fuel Rod Cannon. The main hope one had was to outsmart them before they got pounded into the dirt.

The problem there was that the second entity that stepped through the door was a Zealot. These golden-armored Elites were essentially the equivalent to Generals. They were fierce, smart, and usually lethal. Fighting them was... Difficult, to say the least. It didn't help that they had cloaking technology that made them temporarily invisible, either.

Here, these two had both just stepped through the door at the worst possible time, probably sent by the Prophet himself.

"Aim for the Chieftain!" the Sergeant Major shouted, and he himself started firing at the Zealot, which disappeared soon afterward. Bane and the Williams sisters took up aim at the Chieftain and started pouring ammunition into him in the mean-time, clearly intending to demolish him before he could do any harm. Unfortunately, unlike the common types, these War Chieftains were strong. Easily strong enough to take punishment without flinching. More than once the group had to scramble to get away from being blasted by a Fuel Rod round.

Fullmetal, meanwhile, had placed himself firmly behind an overturned table and started firing at the Zealot. Finally his rounds made their mark, and the Elite's cloaking systems failed. Immediately it brandished an energy sword and charged. The Sergeant Major, fortunately, wasn't going to get cocky with this one. He knew they were excellent duelists.

Backpedaling but maintaining fire, Fullmetal quickly found himself in a corner. He frowned behind his helmet, and watched as the golden-armored alien shrieked at him in rage. He meant to fire again, but quickly had his weapon swat from his hands. "Oi! I was using that ya bloody-" He was forced to cut off in mid-sentence as the thing sent a stab for his chest directly at him. He simply dropped hard to the ground, and watched as the alien drove the sword into the wall where his head was only a moment before.

"Somebody's got a temper," he scoffed, then ripped his combat knife out of its sheath, plunging it into the alien's wrist. "Give me a _break_, will ya!" As he yelled, he wrenched the knife through the alien's wrist, the same that held the sword, and sliced through every nerve in the area. The thing shrieked in pain and surprise, but he wasn't done quite yet. He brought his boot up hard into the alien's face, hoping he had broken a few mandibles in the process, causing the alien to stumble backward and relinquish its weapon.

The sword was still lodged in the wall, its bright blue energy blades shimmering in the light. Fullmetal took only a moment to pry the sword out of the wall, then took a look at where the alien had just been standing. It was gone again, undoubtedly having turned invisible once more. His theory was confirmed by what he thought was an uppercut that sent him straight out the broken window and onto the balcony. The alien uncloaked at the doorway, its jaw and arm both mangled.

The man's eyes widened, but he stood up slowly and with conviction. The sword was still in his hand. He smirked behind his helmet, then watched as the alien used its one good hand to pull a plasma grenade out. His smirk quickly fainted, and his hand went to his hip. He ripped his M6S from its place and fired five times, each shot whisper-silent but extremely powerful. He succeeded in blowing the alien's hand clean off.

In a fit of rage, the alien came running straight at him, which was probably the stupidest thing it could have done. In a way, he thought it didn't care. The Sergeant Major adjusted his footing, and put his left shoulder forward, his right arm ready to thrust forward in a stab. As the alien made contact, he slammed his shoulder into its chest, and brought the sword hard into its gut. He smelled burnt flesh as the blades went straight through, and forced himself to use all his might to lift the alien upward, and over himself- And straight over the railing, falling down into the abyss, flailing and screaming the whole way down.

Fullmetal gave a sigh of relief, deactivating the sword and juggling it in his grip briefly. He shrugged, stuffing it into an ammunition pouch. "Could always use some more souveniers," he mused, then returned to inside the building. He was happy to see that the group had killed the Chieftain, and were now hacking the door. As they did so, the man picked up his M7S/Caseless SMG and reloaded both it and his pistol.

The door flew open, revealing an Honor Guardsman Ultra and a Chieftain. The difference between what they had just fought was great. A War Chieftain was incredibly resilient and tended to use long-range heavy weaponry. A standard Chieftain wasn't as resilient, but had the ability to turn invincible at will through complex systems in their armor. The weaponry greatly contrasted, as the Chieftains _always_ carried a Type-2 Energy Weapon... An incredibly massive hammer that seemed to warp the effects of gravity and creating a sonic boom wherever and whenever it struck.

An Honor Guard Ultra was a leader of a group of Honor Guardsmen. The difference was, they wore white armor, which was more powerful than their subordinates'. However, they never wore a helmet, which was incredibly stupid. Not to complain, however. That made them an easy target.

The group began to open fire on the Chieftain, and the Honor Guard dropped his stave in favor of a plasma rifle. It would've been a wise choice if he had a helmet. Fullmetal raised his pistol briefly, and fired another five rounds. All of them made their mark, but it helped to be sure. The Elite slumped over dead, every round having hit him square in the head.

Bane and the others, meanwhile, had already gunned down the Chieftain. He seemed to have not put up much of a fight, but that was okay. He was dead, and that was what counted. Now, they had another door to bypass. "Crap. I can hear his ship powering up," Ivy said. The others didn't pause to listen, because she was right. He was going to escape if they didn't act quick.

Fullmetal, seeming to have lost his patience, walked straight forward to the Chieftain and picked up the Gravity Hammer. He paced a few steps to the door, and arced it back behind his head. "Grenades ready!" he called. Everyone fumbled for a frag, and once they had it, he swung the hammer hard.


	4. No, that's Endex

The door warped instantly, caving inward and flying off its proper position and into the room instantly. The man then threw the hammer behind him, ducking down as several frag grenades sailed over his head and into the room. Many Honor Guard were present here, but that mattered not as they all were turned to much by the grenades. A ramp went downward, which was now blocked off by an energy blocker. The prophet could be seen on the other side, escourted by a massive amount of bodyguards.

No sooner than he had stepped into the room, Fullmetal was running full-speed up a ramp that led to an outlook above the downward ramp. A loud roar erupted behind him, as did the sputtering of weapons, and he didn't spare a second to look.

The Chieftain hadn't been dead, and in its last moments it was coming after him.

Fullmetal didn't stop moving. With no weapons in his hands and with no way to counter the onrushing behemoth. He had no time to think, to plot... He just had to go with the flow. The angry titan didn't even have a weapon, but it was strong enough to rip him to shreds on its own. There was only one thing the man could think to do that would either work, or he'd die where he stood.

He pivoted the toes of one foot, his hand going to chist chest and gripping the hilt of his combat knife. He pulled hard, and the Chieftain was maybe three feet away. It didn't have its helmet anymore, which made him grin wickedly behind his helmet. He whipped his arm forward, and his knife was sent sailing through the air, spinning like a violent wheel of death. As it did, Fullmetal pivoted again and continued up on the ramp.

The Chieftain stopped dead in his tracks, and slammed hard on his knees, then slumped backwards.

The knife was lodged in its skull, between its eyes, all the way up to the hilt.

Before he reached the top, Fullmetal had taken his M99 SASR off his back, and here he saw exactly what he predicted. He was looking out at a landing platform, where a Type-52 Troop Carrier, a Phantom, sat out at the end. The big purple craft was essentially a shielded and armored transport, and now the Prophet was being loaded into it.

This was his only chance. He had to make the shot.

The man brought the sniper to his shoulder, the scope to his eye. He held his breath, paused only a moment to see the windspeed, distance, and other statistics that were important for making a shot like this... But it didn't matter. The hatches of the Phantom closed tight, sealing the Prophet inside.

"What are you doing?" Bane shouted, running up behind him. "You let him get away! Are you insane?"

The Phantom began to hover upward, and a swarm of Drones came flying at them. "Keep them off me!" the Sergeant Major shouted, shifting his aim slightly but not breaking off from his task.

The others fired, and Fullmetal held his spot. "What are you doing, he's leaving! Let's get out of here, mission's over!" Bane pleaded, but Fullmetal kept silent. Apparently, he would have none of it, even if he was going to fail. He was going to try regardless.

As the Phantom highered, it swung itself around, and was _facing_ the squad. Its plasma turret rotated on the front of the nose, and began firing at the viewport, missing repeatedly.

_Bang!_

The sniper's shot rang out, and smoke filled the Sergeant Major's view. The expended shell jingled as it hit the ground, and he lowered his rifle, altogether stopping anything to watch what was going to happen next.

The starboard engine of the Phantom suddenly burst into blue flames and exploded. The ship swerved violently, still firing as it did so. The ship veered out of control and slammed hard into the wall, and exploded on impact.

Bane felt his jaw drop. One shot? The man took down a Phantom with a single bullet?

The Sergeant Major stretched his arms, and yawned. He sniffed briefly, then chuckled. "Smell that, ladies and gents?" he said. Nobody answered him, too awe-struck to say a word. "That there is the smell of victory."

Sayomi shook her head. "All I smell is burnt aliens."

Fullmetal chuckled. "That's what I call victory." He put his index and middle fingers up to the communications pod on the side of his head, switching to the proper frequency. "This is Oscar-Delta-Sierra-Tango Shadow-Zero-One to the UNSC _Waking Hour._ Shadow Squad has completed their assignment and is awaiting pick-up, over."

The radio was silent for a moment. "Copy that, Shadow-Zero-One. Vigilance is down?" it crackled. He almost laughed.

"Confirmed. He's done."

"Sending in a Pelican dropship to the landing pad. Stand by."

Moments later, Shadow Squad had managed to disable the energy blocker, most of the squad immediately moving out to the landing pad to await pick-up. The Sergeant Major took a moment to pull his combat knife out of the Brute's head, shaking his head as he wiped the brain matter off the blade upon the Brute's face. "For a bunch of dumb ugly aliens, they sure do got a lotta brains." He chuffed at the statement, then turned away and started making his way out of the room. "Good thing they don't know how to use it."

They obnoxiously joked as they watched the battle overhead. Their part was done, so why did they care? It seemed the UNSC had somehow gained a miraculous advantage in the battle. Most of the Covenant ships were in several pieces and were making their way towards the ground. The hull of a CCS Battlecruiser could be seen burning in the distance, crashed into the ground. Bane was staring at the Sergeant Major, and he was well aware of it.

The D77-TC dropship hovered in slowly, not bothering to come in to a complete landing. Its troop compartment's hatches opened rapidly, and all of the Helljumpers clambered into it two at a time. Nobody wasted a second before sitting down in the troop bay's seats. They were very obviously exhausted.

The dropship's hatch closed again, and began to speed off into the atmosphere.

As it did, everybody started to take off their helmets, and Fullmetal looked up to see that Bane was still staring at him. He frowned a bit, then raised a brow. "Something wrong, Gunny?" he asked, his voice clearly showing he has no idea what the man was staring at him for. He couldn't recall having done anything to anger the man.

"What you did back there... I haven't seen anybody pull something like that before," Bane stated bluntly.

"Yeah? Well that ain't surprising." The Sergeant Major's response didn't sound egotistic at all, for such a conceded statement.

The man's brows furrowed, as though he had been expecting an explanation. "Who exactly are you, anyway? I haven't heard anybody say your name even one time since we've been here."

The Sergeant Major shrugged, grinning wickedly. "I'm a Spook! A ghost, a demon, an apparition. Ghosts don't have names, Gunny."

The man was clearly not impressed with the joke. One of the girls spoke up. "Give the guy your name, moron."

With a heavy sigh, Fullmetal stared into his helmet's visor for a moment, clearly contemplating his answer. "What, a Spook can't have a little joke?"

"The dead don't get to joke around."

The man's eyes closed, and he raised his throws thoughtfully. "Touche." He opened his eyes then looked toward the Gunnery Sergeant. "I'm a Jack of All Trades Trooper, and in many cases ONI's personal Grim Reaper. And my name is Master Chief Petty Officer Edward Wolffe Rommel."


End file.
